Sneak-Sweeping

The worst thing about custodial work is not cleaning toilets. It's not really anything that has to do with cleaning at all. The WORST thing is cleaning with other people around.

Most of the custodial jobs I've had, this hasn't been a problem. I worked early morning shifts, before any of the professors or students got to campus, or I worked after a kitchen crew had left for the day. Now, though, I'm working at a junior high where the teachers tend to linger long into my work hours.
Some of the other custodians don't mind this; they like to chat and make friends. But when I'm working, I like to let my mind wander into other worlds, my imagination galloping off while my body is occupied - so it's pretty awkward to be in the same room with someone else while that's going on.

I learned quickly which teachers I can rely on to race out of the school as soon as the final bell rings, so my strategy is to clean their rooms first, waiting for the lingerers to finish their business. This has been extremely successful, with one blaring exception: a science teacher by the name of Mr. Darcy.

Okay, no. His name isn't really Mr. Darcy. But he's young, and cute. And I am oddly certain that in an alternate dimension we had a torrid (and possibly scandalous) love affair. The tension of our alternate-dimension attraction must be strong enough that it seeps through into our dimension in that one classroom, because I feel it every time I go in there.

Which wouldn't matter so much, except that Mr. Darcy is worse than a lingerer - he's a returner. As I discovered on one particular afternoon . . . .

I had already been in Mr. Darcy's room that day, on my rounds to empty the trash. I'd scrubbed desks and cleaned the windows, and he had been nowhere to be seen; so I'd assumed it was safe to go back with my broom a few hours later. The last thing I do before I leave every day is sweep the science rooms, using the closet-office they all share as a center of operations. I go through each room with a small broom, getting into the corners and dragging everything out into the open. Then I go back with a push-broom and sweep it all up. Easy as pie.

I had finished unearthing the dirt in all of the rooms. I grabbed my push-broom and started to open the door to Mr. Darcy's room when I noticed that all of the lights were on. I glanced inside and - sure enough - there he was, sitting at his computer, his back to me. A jolt of surprise went through me. Why would a teacher - who had already left for the day - come back at six o'clock?

I hesitated, not wanting to bother him while he was working, and then I moved on to one of the other science rooms. I'll just finish up everything I can. That will give him time to grab whatever he forgot, and he'll be gone by the time I'm ready to go in there. My steps were shorter, slower perhaps than was normal, as I swept the other rooms. I took as much time as I thought was excusable, always glancing back toward his room, hoping to see the lights shut off as Mr. Darcy headed home.

No such luck. When I'd finished all of the other rooms, Mr. Darcy was still there. He apparently had no intention of leaving any time soon, either; I could hear music pounding through the closed door, and as I spied through the window, I could see a stack of papers and a grading program pulled up on his computer. He was typing, but it looked like he still had a long way to go.

All at once, the music registered in my mind. It was an 80s love song. A blush coursed through me as I considered other reasons why I wouldn't want to be alone in a room with this young man, my other-dimension-lover. The song, with its beckoning melody, seemed to hint at the possibilities.

I turned my back on him, pacing in the closet-office. Maybe I should just leave, I thought. But then I remembered that I'd already been through the room with my small broom, dragging all the filth out into the open. It looked terrible; I couldn't leave it like that. My only option was to stride in there, purposeful, and just be professional about it.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and pushed my way inside. I looked not to the right nor left, just marching with my eyes fixed on the dirt. When I turned my first corner, I spared a glance in his direction, to see how he was taking my professionalism.

He hadn't seen me.

He hadn't heard me come in, either. The music was much louder in here, and my push-broom slid almost silently across the floor. I stood there for a moment, watching his completely oblivious form. And then I took off, sweeping as quickly as I could quietly manage.

His room is tight, tables jammed at odd angles to each other. I had to navigate a lot of narrow passages, and all the while I kept myself at a hunch, low to the ground, trying to stay out of his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair. I froze. He stretched, then returned to his work, and I kept on sweeping.

The further I got through the room, the closer I got to him. I started stretching the broom out in front of me, twisting it as far as it would go so that I wouldn't have to walk into his line of sight. Eventually, I was standing right behind him, practically holding my breath as I tried to ease my broom beneath his chair without him noticing.

He started singing.

The love song was still playing, and now he was singing along. I couldn't take it.

In a rush, I finished sweeping the last corner and drove the broom back to the closet-office as quickly as I could, closing the door gently behind me. As soon as I was inside, I ducked under the window. I skittered around the corner, leaning against the door to one of the other science rooms. I could still hear Mr. Darcy's singing through the closed door.

But I'd gotten away.

I laughed, quietly. I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it. But in reality, I had never had more fun sweeping than when I was trying to dodge my other-dimension-lover, Mr. Darcy.

Who says custodial work has to be boring?